


Ash

by creepy_crawly



Series: Kink Bingo 2010 [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Control, Teacher-Student Relationship, educational sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Padawan must learn in this way.</p><p> </p><p>(Orgasm control, sex in an education format, kinky uses of the Force)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash

“You must learn to control everything,” Qui-Gon said calmly, stalking around the perimeter of the large circle that had been engraved into the floor of the training room. His robe swept behind him, making a soft shuffling sound as it slid over the floor in the same, sweeping rhythms that hundreds upon thousands of Masters before him had walked.

Obi-Wan knelt, naked, in the centre of the circle, surrounded by thousands of engraved sigils. They were all designed and directed at one thing: control. 

But not by the student. No, the sigils were designed to let the Padawan’s Master take complete and total control over the student’s physical reactions, what elucidated them and what the students did in reaction to them. Qui-Gon had once considered it barbaric, and, to be honest, he was still uncomfortable with the way the test required a Master to completely take over his Padawan. However, over the years, he had come to understand the training exercise’s use in developing Jedi Knights.

“Your control over the Force must be iron-clad and constant, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon continued, still pacing. “At all times, in all circumstances, under all pressures, you must be able to keep a hand—a tight hand—on the Force that answers to your call.”

“Yes, Master,” the young man murmured. His braid whispered over his shoulder as he shivered slightly, chilled without clothing in the empty room.

Qui-Gon sighed, and then slowly knelt down at the edge of the circle. He focused for a long moment, pulling up as much of the Living Force as would answer to his summons. Holding it all close to him, a blanket on his skin, he placed his hands on the rim of the circle, so that his fingertips were just brushing the indentations worn by years of Masters’ touches, and let the Force pour forth.

As the circle activated, Obi-Wan gasped, his back arching suddenly. Qui-Gon had told him to give in, to let his body react, at least for this test. They would be doing it again and again, and, to quote his Master, it was best that he learn what he was to control before he sought to control it.

Qui-Gon had not warned him that it would feel like this, however. Like hundreds upon thousands upon millions of fingers, blood-warm and feather-soft, stroking over every inch of his skin. It was marvelous, like nothing he had ever felt before. Not that he was experienced; that was half the purpose behind this whole exercise.

Obi-Wan shivered violently. The pleasure was building, his skin heating, his heart speeding up. Tiny, fine sharp blades joined the feathers, curling along similar paths. They were ice-cold to the feathers’ blood-hot warmth; the difference was startling. The young man cried out, his spine curling back in where it had arched out. He was unable to keep himself from closing his eyes.

And the pleasure—stopped.

An abrupt, aborted cry leapt from Obi-Wan’s lips. He forced his eyes open and stared at his Master, a look of mixed pleading and betrayal.

Qui-Gon just looked back. “Control, Obi-Wan,” he said calmly, not letting his Padawan know how the exercise had affected him. “Look around you.”

The redhead did just that, and only then did he see the ashy debris that was used to show patterns in the Force had scattered. He flushed, darkening the color of his cheeks in shame. It was evident from the room that he had lost control of the Force, and in a big way. 

“It would be dangerous to engage in pleasures without control over the Force, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. He gathered the ash back with a gesture, settling it back.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan agreed, panting slightly.

He was not prepared for the sudden surge of pleasure, like flames in his blood. Surprised, he cried out. Heat, liquid smooth and velvet soft, enveloped him. It pulsed randomly, strong and steady there, now hesitant and gentle here. The sensation was something akin to what Obi-Wan imagined it would feel like to be worked over by a Sandorian, with millions of tongue-like tentacles that could be coordinated to act independently or in concert with one another. 

He bit his lip to stifle the rising moans, focusing instead on keep a firm control of the Force. Unfortunately, he could feel it slipping further and further from his fingers as the pulsing began to become less random and more focused on his achingly hard cock. His knees trembled.

And the pleasure stopped.

Qui-Gon didn’t say anything this time, just waited for Obi-Wan’s whimpers and pants to fade. And then he started it all over again. And again. And again.

Obi-Wan writhed, caught between indescribable pleasures of the sorts he had never imagined. His nerves alone were all the sigils utilizing his Master’s Force needed to recreate the sensations of a thousand million different sexual experiences, and his brain was struggling with controlling them all. He trembled violently as he fought to both enjoy the experience and to maintain his focus on the Force.

But it was so hard, and it was starting to hurt. Time and time and time again Qui-Gon stopped him, seconds before he might have reached his release. Obi-Wan was soon shaking violently, like the last leaf hanging from the dead tree branch in the late autumn. Sweat poured from his body, alternately chilling and scalding him as the pleasure ramped up and spiraled away again and again. He soon wept with the need to come, to reach orgasm. 

And still his Master did not relent.

They were in the ninth (or was it ninety-ninth? Obi-Wan couldn’t recall) repetition of the cycle when, finally, something changed. As the pleasure began to grow again, trickling along over-stimulated nerves, a warm, familiar presence blossomed in the young Padawan’s mind and, suddenly, he was not alone.

And we shall control together, Padawan, his Master murmured. 

As the pleasure spiraled ever upwards, Obi-Wan’s brain took over control of the experience. He was not kneeling on the hard, stone floor of the training room, but on the carpeted floor of the flat they shared. He was not naked and alone but for the brush of the wind, because Qui-Gon knelt behind him, an invisible force of hands and mouth and sensation.

Control, his Master reminded him, though there was a hint of a laugh in his voice. 

Obi-Wan shivered but obeyed, not letting his mind stray too far. Still, he luxuriated in the feel of his Master’s fingers probing his relaxed hole, teasing in softly where hours of mental work had already opened him up. He could only shiver and whimper as something much larger than fingers slid in, his Master’s hot, hard cock re-awakening the already jolted nerves.

And they rocked together, the most intense pleasures that the human body could imagine buffeting the pair of them. Unable to remain upright, Obi-Wan tumbled forward, bracing himself on the floor as Qui-Gon fucked him, slow and steady.

And the pleasure built, further and further, until Obi-Wan was sure that the Healers would find scalding along his body as his blood boiled in his veins and his nerves literally took light. He was a moth in a candle’s flame, a tree being placed in the fire, a coal being readied. He was heating, flaming, flaring, bursting into light…

He was coming, screaming loudly, his fingers clenching down so hard into the sandstone floor that they tore at it, leaving bloody tracks from where his fingernails had broken, his knees giving way as white hot cum streaked the floor.

As the after-images of fireworks faded away, Obi-Wan saw only his Master, sitting calmly at the edge of the circle.

“Well,” Qui-Gon murmured. “It seems we still have work to do.” Then he rose to his feet and left.

Obi-Wan was left there, sweaty and panting, to stare at the rippled pattern of the ash.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010 for KinkBingo. This filled the "Orgasm Control/Denial" square.


End file.
